


Blackout

by Grimmy88



Category: Left 4 Dead 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmy88/pseuds/Grimmy88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strong storm, a dark apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackout

            The rain started just as Ellis finished working on his last car of the evening. The clouds had been billowing the entire day, cold and crisp, and chose at this moment to compliment the biting chill of the autumn air with streaking slices of silver water.

            So the hick stood, just under the fake-canopy that covered the front door of the garage he was currently employed at, gauging the thickness of the pattering drops, watching the way it freckled the sidewalk in front of him before venturing out towards his truck.

            And the moment he slipped into his vehicle and closed the door it was like somebody opened up the floodgates. That or God had bowled a perfect game and those angels were a-bawlin’ their pretty eyes out.

            Although, he supposed it didn’t matter figuring he had to drive through it regardless.

            Driving through the rain was never his favorite thing—mainly because everybody else on the road seemed to panic just because of a little water. He couldn’t count how many times he had almost been side-swiped in the past because of swerving, uncertain tires.

            Today seemed to be more favoring, however, because he pulled into a parking space outside his apartment building with no incident to report. Considering it was still pouring and he’d have to flounce through it to get inside he wasn’t sure how favoring the day truly was.

            Ellis turned off the engine of his truck and gathered the black backpack he always brought with him to work from the seat beside him so he could shove his hat within its confines. And then he sprinted for the front door.

            When he got up to the door of his home and shoved the unlocked door open the curls of his hair were still releasing water that dripped down onto the shoulders of his wet, clinging t-shirt.

            Nick looked up from the couch, away from his television show, and offered up a quirk of his lips.

            “Shaddup,” Ellis warned, plopping his backpack down next to the entrance before closing the door behind him.

            “Did you eat?”

            “Yeah,” the mechanic replied, eyeing the kitchen where nothing was out of place. “…Ya didn’t?”

            “I will while you shower,” Nick answered, picking up the remote to shuffle through the channels with nonchalance. “And don’t take another step without stripping first.”

            “Missed me that much?” Ellis curled his fingers under the hem of his shirt and started to peel the wet material from his skin, struggling when it clung to the obstructive curves and angles of his shoulders and then face.

            “…Only you could take all the fun out of watching someone strip.”

            “I’m freezin’ and I can’t even breathe, how am I supposedta strip?”

            Ellis listened as his lover’s feet slid across the wood floor, barely bothering to lift themselves too far from the stable surface. He kept his arms up, knowingly, and was rewarded by Nick’s more-than-warm hands on his sides.

            “Shit, you weren’t kidding.” The hands moved, almost sympathetic before they must have remembered why they’d even been placed against his cool skin.

            When the shirt popped off Ellis gave a shake of his head, dispelling and displacing the water clinging to his hair. Nick waited, watching, flinching as the water speckled onto his face. And Ellis, not wanting his roommate to be uncomfortable, obliged by pressing his cold, flat palms against the stubbled face and smearing the skin around so he could ‘wipe’ the beads of liquid away.

            Nick watched him, blandly, and how he didn’t even crack a smile the redneck couldn’t figure. As for himself, he just about busted a gut anytime he could. He liked to laugh, long and loud, and yet he’d never been able to rouse the same clap of noise from his lover’s chest—only contrite, pulsing chuckles and ready, small smiles. Once and a while he could get a flash of white teeth and the crinkle of eyes that somehow made the gambler look years and years younger.

            And that’s just how Nick was, he knew, but still, knowing his limits and how far he could stretch them was rapidly becoming one of his favorite pastimes. He wasn’t particularly fond that the conman enjoyed redirecting the teasing right back at Ellis since his methods weren’t nearly as silly, but the snide, precise jabs never hit anywhere it would hurt, not anymore.

            He smeared his hands downward one last time, letting his fingertips fall to rest on the sides of Nick’s neck.

            “So how many different kinds of grease are on my face now?”

            “I washed ‘em,” Ellis began, leaning close.

            “Wet.” Nick shoved him back so that he could return to his seat on the couch.

            The hick reached down to fumble his fingers against his belt, loosening its hold on his hips so that he could unzip his pants and shove both them down. He took a tentative, bare-footed step.

            “Boxers, too.”

            “Aw, c’mon,” Ellis muttered. He poked his thumbs under the scrunched hem and moved them back and forth. Nick didn’t look up at him again, eyes back on the noisy television. “…Unless you wanna help.”

            He skin had already flushed before he’d decided to voice the thought. And sure, he knew Nick would take the bait, that they’d have that much more passion because he’d been the one to beckon, but no knowledge ever stopped him from turning pink straight to his ear tips.

            Nick lifted the remote and turned off the television. He reclined back against the cushion padding behind him and then lifted his arms so that he could cup the back of his skull. “And what about my dinner?”

            A little more confident, considering the pleased position the older man had assumed, he traced his thumbs to the front of his hips, resting the digits against the lines that accented where leg and hip fused together. “Ikin makeya somethin’ after.”

            “Oh, yeah? Gonna wear that outfit again?” Nick asked. He stood and stepped out from between the coffee table and the couch.

            Ellis decided not to respond and instead began walking, a sideways motion, smirking to mirror the look on his gambler’s face, moving to mirror the slow motion of the strong legs underneath the ever-constant dress slacks. As he reached the hallway that would lead down to the bathroom, he raised his hands, trailing his fingers along the wall as he moved. As soon as Nick passed the threshold of the hallway a low rumble broke the predatory silence.

            And Ellis wondered if it was childish to enjoy that rumble because it was so close to how Nick’s voice could be late at night or upon waking in the morning. Because Nick was following _his_ lead instead of directing.

            He turned and let his back hiss against the bathroom door before he stopped, holding onto the knob so it wouldn’t swing open and leave him without a stable support for his legs. Which was probably stupid, ‘cause you were probably supposed to stop shaking for your lover after the first year or so. Probably stupid to shake anyway, considering they were both guys.

            But as Nick neared him and placed his fingers into the exact spots Ellis had teased him with before he made no comment. Instead he shifted his hips forward, letting the wet, cold fabric scratch against the subtle jutting of bones and then thighs before they plopped around his feet.

            Ellis released the doorknob as soon as they landed and wrapped his arms tight around Nick’s shoulders, drawing the warm body against him as his spine curved backwards. Hands splayed across the skin of his back and Ellis realized faintly that there were no rings adorning the thick fingers tonight. Which made no difference to him because as soon as that touch began to knead and push he forgot there were such things in the world called rings.

            Nick’s body had followed along with Ellis’ movement, his torso pressing against the tautly pulled muscles of the younger man’s as their mouths met in a probing kiss of teeth and tongues. When they finally straightened the northerner had gone straight for Ellis’ neck, marking and biting familiar places with all new bruises. And even though he just wanted to start rolling his hips against the thigh he was trapped against, the mechanic had enough sense to pull their embrace backwards.

            Nick’s head twisted to the opposite side and Ellis let his head roll to accommodate, sucking in a breath at a particularly sharp bite, all incisors and lust. He reached back blindly, fingers stopping against the plastic sheet of the shower curtain. He gripped it hard and tried to slide it aside so he could reach further within.

            The arms around him released slowly, as if knowing his legs were relying on the domineering weight, and when he stood upright they disappeared entirely. Ellis leaned back and turned the spray of the showerhead on immediately and then reached forward to help Nick out of his clothes.

            Nick caught his hands up, stopping them from unbuttoning his shirt, and instead Ellis watched his fingers near the conman’s thin lips and then felt the rush of moist, hot air on his skin.

            Another rumble from outside shook the apartment and drowned out the sound of the air passing hotly through Nick’s mouth.

            And something like that shouldn’t have made his cock jump up, something like that was supposed to be worth a smile and a thank you, but he didn’t think he could manage the words so instead he watched and waited as Nick huffed warmth onto his hands and tried to draw the blood back by massaging his joints and palms. And he was grateful, even if the blood did go someplace else instead.

            When Nick let go of him again, smiling and flicking open the buttons of his shirt the way only a person who wore a dress shirt every day could, Ellis took a step back. He lifted one leg over the edge of the tub and waited, eyes on the buckle of Nick’s belt that was currently between the warmth-giving fingers.

            Another rumble shook the apartment and the lights blacked out.

            And Ellis did exactly what anyone could’ve predicted from such a graceful, _horny_ redneck: he fell backwards, smacking both his ass and head against the tub and wall respectively with loud, resounding thwacks.

            “Fucking shit, Overalls.” Where ever that voice was coming from.

            The showerhead, pounding down dully and exacerbating the crescendo of pain within his skull, stopped and for a moment the storm was silent.

            “Ow.”

            “I bet,” Nick chuckled as hands settled onto Ellis’ arms. He let himself be drawn up, wary of the side of the tub which he had to probe at with his foot before he could get up and over.

            “Real romantic,” Ellis muttered, reaching up to rub the growing bump on the back of his skull.

            “Aren’t you always?” The conman laughed again and lead them from the bathroom, slowly. It was easy enough to follow the hallway as each man pressed their free palms against the paint job, their other hands clasped together, each wary of the other’s movements in the absolute void of light around them.

            “Didn’t know our place was this dark,” the hick murmured, letting his hand drift in said darkness as the wall underneath it ended. He stepped out hesitantly with his foot, feeling along the wood until he came upon the small carpet upon which the coffee table rested. Nick must’ve felt it too because he pulled the arm in his grasp, effectively moving Ellis in front of him and right onto the couch.

            “Aw, fuck,” Nick muttered after a moment, his voice further away. “I just realized I sat your naked ass down on my leather couch.”

            “Here, lemme just rub across it fer ya.”

            “Yeah, mood killed.”

            “Juss get me some ice already,” Ellis groaned, lying down on the all-important leather whether the conman liked it or not. Another blast sounded through the sky and white-hot light flicked the room into vibrancy for two flashing moments.

            It was enough to help Nick find the refrigerator and he pulled open the freezer door and rummaged inside loudly in a battle against the elusive ice. After a few moments the door was shut again, there were feet barely audible against the wood floor and drowning storm outside, and then there were softer sounds of searching.

            Nick was back by his side then, pressing the ice bag, now wrapped in one of their kitchen towels, against his chest. Ellis replaced it underneath his head, balancing his skull so he could continue lying without the tiny cubes giving any unwanted pain.

            The couch dipped down by his feet and a hand settled on his thigh. “How’s your ass?”

            “Fine.”

            “Yeah, because your ass has cushion.”

            Ellis sighed. “Y’know, ya could juss go make yerself a sandwich er somethin’ an’ leave me alone.”

            Nick shifted again and Ellis almost started at the feel of lips just above his knee, but he really didn’t feel like getting yelled at for a broken nose so he focused on the palm, as if it were holding him steady. “You want me to leave you alone? After teasing me like that?”

            This time the southerner did move so he could shift onto his side, which forced him to manually hold the ice bag against the back of his head and press his face into the leather cushioning.

            The lips came back, however, moving over the side of his thigh, over his hip, even going off track to plant a few pecks over his offered ass cheek. That touch was enough for him to attempt to whip his weight back over.

            Well until Nick smacked him firmly, the sound of his palm hitting the skin covered by a boom of thunder.

            The first and last time the conman had ever pulled a stint like that Ellis had hit back. Of course his way of hitting back had been a backwards elbow that luckily only managed to catch his lover’s shoulder instead of his face. Even luckier for the hick was the fact that the next day, after it had bruised, Nick had actually laughed it off.

            He didn’t rear back this time, but he continued to turn over, trying to hide himself against the cushions. “You smack me again an’ I’mma piss on yer couch.”

            “Yeah? And where do you plan on sleeping after that?” Nick didn’t smack him again, though, and Ellis craned his head futilely over his shoulder to try to discern where his hands had gone.

            The weight by his legs hadn’t moved, and the hick reached one out, finding the side of Nick’s, and rubbed his shin against it. The thigh shifted away from him for a moment and then a soft light, a candle they kept in the middle of the coffee table, illuminated only the very center of the room.

            Ellis watched the glow of light off the profile of Nick’s face, hair, and shoulders as the gambler turned back to face him.

            “Up,” Nick beckoned, fingers tight just above the bulge of Ellis’ elbow. The redneck moved willingly, standing up, making to move closer. The conman, however, just reached beyond him to the top of the couch so he could pluck up the blanket resting there and continue to open and spread it across the cushions.

            Ellis waited until he finished, waited longer until he was forcibly shoved back down onto the couch, and waited while Nick’s belt tinked and then relaxed and his zipper buzzed down. He could see the light color of his dress slacks—tan in normal light—highlighted by the golden bead of firelight as they fell from his muscular legs, followed by the darker blob of his boxers.

            Slinking back against the blanket and couch beneath him, Ellis waited until his lover began moving towards him to lift and spread his legs, letting the older man settle between them and it felt natural and warm.

            Ellis sighed as Nick drew his thighs along, leaning down to fasten their mouths together once more, slow and almost gentle this time, no teeth or panting breaths, only open mouths and tentative, barely teasing touches of the softness of their lips.

            They parted and the hick, very quickly, hooked his ankles together, smiling into the flickering semi-light at Nick’s inability to draw back. Heavy hands caressed the outside of his thighs, working downwards to his ass which was billowed into the blanket.

            “Lube’s in the bedroom,” Ellis baited.

            Nick gave a squeeze of what skin he could in response and the younger survivor, more than a little disappointed in the fact that he couldn’t make out his expression, lifted his hips, letting them be pulled across the light fur of Nick’s legs to rest fully on his lap.

            From there strong fingers wrapped about his length, moving languidly, almost groggily, as if he were being fondled in the first brights of morning by sleepy hands. The unhurried exploration of the head of his penis by one of Nick’s thoughtful thumbs forced him to arch up, uncaring that the conman’s torpid explorations usually led him to orgasms that brinked upon the uncomfortably amazing.

            Nick’s other, proficiently equal hand drew up from his right side then, up over his stomach and chest and neck and chin, fingers tapping at his bottom lip insistently. Another spot the older man enjoyed too much. Ellis took the fingers within his own, holding them steady as he began to lap at the three digits presented.

            It helped that the lights were out. Several years together had abated many of his insecurities, with gay sex, with Nick, with his own sexuality… Okay, well he did _still_ blush a lot. And Nick could get him sputtering and rigid in a public place with only a few choice words. And sometimes he still came when he didn’t expect it. And well… okay maybe Nick was a little weird with some of his fantasies or kinks or whatever, namely one black and white outfit he was still ashamed he’d even put on…

            Not like he didn’t have fantasies of his own, but he didn’t need Nick dressing up as anything. That suit worked just fine every time. And the one time the conman had actually put on jeans and a t-shirt they hadn’t stayed on very long at all.

            But even with all that Ellis preferred the lights off. Because then he wasn’t so ashamed of blushing or grunting (not that you could see a grunt, he guessed). Because then Nick couldn’t see how much things he’d never thought of doing felt good and hot.

            Namely the way the card shark’s thumb was sliding over the slit on his cock, namely the way his breath was closer, puffing against the skin of his stomach, namely the way newly wet fingers moved down over that spot only seconds later.

            “Your head better?” Nick asked, voice guttural.

            “I’m okay,” Ellis breathed back, shifting his weight across the hard probe beneath it.

            Nick gave his erection another tug and then his touch moved to bite into the hick’s hip, lifting Ellis onto his shoulders, ass against a broad chest and legs splayed in the air, trying to find balance. They waited a moment after the mixed gasp of surprise and discomfort that wrangled from the mechanic’s throat. And surprisingly the position gave way to numbness, to a sense of vulnerability—one that he felt often with Nick, one that both humbled and thrilled Ellis.

            “Still okay?”

            Ellis didn’t respond, instead he floated his hands against what he could reach of the gambler’s legs. The action apparently spoke well enough for his silent throat because Nick’s arm, wound about him, gave him enough access to wrap his palm back around the bobbing length while his other fingers ghosted over the overly-sensitive skin between Ellis’ testicles and puckered opening.

            And the redneck did the only thing he could think of doing, beyond the idea of stopping. He closed his eyes and evened his breathing, trying not to focus on how close his ass was to Nick’s face. Because it was one thing to have a mouth on other parts of you, but to have his lover close to a place he—at least in his youth and the beginning of their relationship—had found hard to truly enjoy considering… well, considering things that didn’t need to be stated, was a different experience altogether.

            Nick seemed to have sensed that early in their relationship. And they both knew the necessity of preparation and they used their fingers readily. But fingers and dicks were already two things he’d never dreamed of entering him, to have a face, or even a mouth close to his opening… well, that shamed him more than his position, more than begging and moaning ever could.

            Ellis forgot all about breathing as warm air drifted over his inner thighs, testicles and the parts of his organ that could feel it between the wandering, ring-less fingers. And of all the nights, he didn’t understand why the gamble insisted on pushing things tonight. Ellis could only figure it was something about the black night around them.

            Nick’s mouth settled on what he could reach then, the soft sacks of skin that were currently hanging over the base of his erection. Ellis, eyes still clenched, felt as they were lifted with all the consideration in the world, and then he bucked, forgetting the painful cramping of his neck and the awful position as one was sucked into a moist, blazing mouth.

            “Don’t break your neck,” the northerner whispered and then went back to his ministrations, taking the second heavy sac within his mouth to suck gently, to release it with a pop before he tongue took over.

            A finger pressed and pushed into his entrance then, followed rapidly by a second, hooked and searching, pulsing back and forth as if in vibration as they wedged in further to completion. A third joined a moment later, easing the muscle and skin open in accommodation. And then that finger was also hooking, pressing, and scissoring inside him.

            And then the room became washed in white as the lights slapped back on.

            Ellis froze, body tightening hard and rigid. Nick was forced to release the lazy touch on his cock to steady their unstable pose, to keep his young lover against him. And Ellis’ hands searched for something to hold onto, the pain in his neck searing down through his shoulders.

            “Nick!”

            “Relax, what did I say?” The hand returned to his still un-flagged organ and the tongue continued its slick assault over musky, underappreciated skin.

            “Nick, stop.” The hick didn’t want to struggle in fear that he could hurt either himself or Nick, but with the lights on… With the lights on and such a place so close to his lover’s face, with his opening sounding wetly and sucking about the fingers and so available to green eyes, with the way his touch was stroking and searching and then hitting his prostate…

            How any one moment could be filled with so much shame and enjoyment didn’t make any sense. How Nick’s breathing could become sharp and hard, as if he were the one feeling the touch, as if his hands were on his own cock instead of preoccupied with the body of his lover, made no logical sense but he still couldn’t help the flutter of his stomach, even cramped and lined in such a position, exposing his excitement at Nick’s.

            And when he opened his eyes and saw green, pure and full, fixated on flicking between Ellis’ face and then back to where the hick didn’t want him to look, his throat finally released.

            “Nick, stop, please.”

            He might as well’ve been speaking Spanish though because Nick’s fingers only sped up, thick and full as if growing, scissoring and spreading and flicking and then rubbing, gentle, hard, fast. And he couldn’t arch, he couldn’t move, he could only release a heavy breath, gargled by the awkward curve of his neck and shoulders, grunted and loud and ragged.

            He came, jetting out onto his own face, eyes clenched against the bitter liquid as it landed across the bridge of his nose, his cheek, his lips. And all the while he tried not to buck into how amazing it was, into how Nick had gotten him off with his _fingers_.

            His awareness came back then, the splinting pain in his neck, the quivering of his stomach and back muscles, the feel of the conman’s hands on him, easing him back down, a touch which he readily accepted, spreading his legs to let his lover between them.

            Nick, however, lifted his right leg, sliding between Ellis and the couch, resting on his side. The hick tried to focus on his breathing instead of Nick’s. Of the movement of his own body instead of Nick’s.

            But when his roommate moved close, nose grazing his non-wet cheek, lips following after, he turned a little, lifting his face because Nick was still very hard against him.

            The lips moved across his face, a tongue across the line of sperm on the bridge of his nose and then down at his own mouth. And then he welcomed it inside, bitter taste and all, one arm up and pulling, the other down and grasping.

            It didn’t take him long to coax an orgasm out of the older man with quick, short jerks and a fisted hand around the purple head. Nick’s hands roved over him all the while, lips pulling away and parting to puff quiet grunts and sucks of air against Ellis’ ear before he, too, was spilling onto the redneck’s skin.

            Ellis stroked him gradually for a few more moments, turning his face to rest his cheek against his partner’s. The gambler leaned up after a few moments, resting on his elbow, chest expanding and shrinking deeper than normal. He brought his hand up and ran it through the still-damp curls always hidden under a certain white and blue trucker’s hat.

            “Don’t do that again,” Ellis said.

            “If I had ten bucks for every time you said that…”

            “What?”

            “I’d probably never have to gamble again,” Nick murmured. “Want to try and shower again?”

            “…Yer goin’ in first this time.”


End file.
